


Weight of One World

by StormDriver



Series: Warriors of the First [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Basically spoilers for post-HW and DEFINITELY Shadowbringers, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, Gen, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:09:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23907478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormDriver/pseuds/StormDriver
Summary: Over a century ago, a sacrifice was made. Memories of the event continued to haunt someone as they trudged across the ruins of his broken world. And now they haunt someone who had almost nothing to do with their mistakes. Almost nothing.A story about the Warriors of Darkness and their tragedy. A retelling, if you will.Includes spoilers for Shadowbringers and patch 5.2, as well as all events leading up to patch 3.4 of Heavensward.
Series: Warriors of the First [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1723276
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Weight of One World

**Author's Note:**

> I adore the Warriors of Darkness, ESPECIALLY Ardbert. I don't think I've ever had a more favourite group of characters in a story, and I certainly have never loved a character so much as I've loved Ardbert and his story. And despite him being among the top favourite characters of the expansion (and maybe of the entire game), there's still something I feel is missing. It's no surprise that their story is still developing even while I write this. But I feel the story arc of the Warriors of Darkness was handled poorly in Heavensward. It could've been handled better and given more of a spotlight instead of being secluded to a side story and quickly resolved to make way for Stormblood. And only to be relevant in the role quests of Shadowbringers and scarcely so in the MSQ... It's kinda sad. 
> 
> I wrote this first as a self-indulgent project, but as I kept writing, I realized how much potential that it had. And I realized what I really wanted to do: I wanted to give their story a second chance to be told. Of course, I will not proclaim my iteration of he story is somehow better or superior. But I wanted to see more of them. I still want to see more of them. I can only hope that by writing this, I'll give myself some closure. 
> 
> I did write a prelude to this story, but it includes spoilers for the final role quest of Shadowbringers. So I've decided to section it off, since the rest of the story won't have to do with it. If anyone would like to read it, I've included it as a series as part 1. However, this whole fic can be read without the introductory part, so don't worry about missing anything. 
> 
> TL;DR for that fic, if anyone would like a summary, but wants to avoid spoilers: It was an iteration of when the Warriors of Darkness died to be transported to the Source. A character that I cannot name or give details on appeared to talk Ardbert out of the plan, but was too late as he'd killed his friends. They tried to convince him to give up on the plan, but were not able to stop him. Grief stricken, Ardbert struck himself with a knife and let himself fall backwards into his grave, and the last thing he saw was the everlasting light blooming overhead.

The scattered dreams were the strangest to have in Norvrandt. Waking up after seeing those long-lost memories and seeing where they took place, the stage that they used to dance on, now only a shell of its former glory. The props and pieces torn and tattered, some lost to oblivion and never again to be seen by man. Only alive in memories. Only alive in one’s soul. 

Only one person who survived from the old days, if it could even be called survival. Long dead since those times, yet soul refusing to depart from this world.

Blankets did little to warm their body. The windows were shut, yet the air chilled as night fell. It was all they could do to retain warmth by hugging their legs and tucking their body close. Their back against the wall and eyes staring at naught but the frantic memories of their dream. 

“Is this… some kind of punishment…?” The hug tightened and they pressed their head into their knees, trying to block out the gruesome visages of the past. “Bearing all that I have was not enough, was it… No, you have suffered so much worse than I.”

Only one person that was forced to tread the very soil that they eviscerated. Who hopelessly screamed his heart out at the people who’d survived, to keep fighting or to find shelter or to run away. And despite how much he wished to atone, he was forced into silence. Not one person would hear him crying. Not one god would have mercy on his sin-stained soul.

A soul they now shared. 

Yet not a person remembered who had helped to save it.

That had to change. It will change. This world will change again. Not by anyone’s reckoning, but only on its own. Once they’ve learned the truth. 

_They’ll know your story._

_They will hear your words that you screamed for decades._

_And they will know what your life means to them. I will make sure of it._

The Warrior of Light let the air out of their lungs, slowly letting their chest fall and body loosen up. It was cold in the Pendants. It was never warm in the first place. 

“Tomorrow. I promise,” they closed their eyes, trying to keep the horrific memory at the front of their mind. Tried to remember the feeling of the knife tearing through his body. The utterly sickening and repulsive sight of their bodies falling down to their early resting place. The terror that he felt at that exact moment. The doubts that he withheld to keep their hope alive.

Such an awful memory to plague such an innocent soul.

“I’ll _make_ them understand if I have to. Tomorrow, they’ll know what you and your friends did for this world. They will know that you did not abandon them.”

* * *

The pain had faded long ago. It was dark. There was no sound. There was no feeling. Only the strangest experience that he wasn’t in the right place anymore. Like his body had simply decided to stop feeling anything. And his mind was forced to feel nothing but the numb experience.

Of _course_ he couldn’t see anything. He had his eyes closed. 

_When had he shut them?_

Finally deciding to look, to move past this strange feeling, he opened his eyes. There was nothing recognizable. Only sights parallel to the skies that he used to see every night. 

He hadn’t seen the night sky in some odd months. 

Stars glistened across the dark canvas. Some brighter than others. Some closer than others. Some that he felt he could reach for and grab a hold of, if his body would allow it. 

He was falling. The stars were drifting past him. The distant colors of the sky all but faded into the void around him. And voices drifted by on the dead air.

Familiar voices at that. 

He dared to glance closer as the stars flew past. Few seemed to slow as he reached for them and others kept drifting, refusing to let him see. But the first glimpses yielded some results: things that he remembered from his adventures. Faces that he hadn’t seen in some time or had seen only the other day. And their voices flooded the space around him.

**_I get the feeling that you just saved my life. Again!_ **

**_We’re so close! Hit it with everything you’ve got!_ **

The images of Ronka’s secrets flew past him. 

_**And Renda-Rae─I trust that the next time you decide to hunt deadly game, you'll do us the courtesy of extending us an invitation?** _

**_And there I thought I was doing you a favor by keeping you out of my personal affairs...selfish as it was…_ **

Memories from a rainy night in Rak’tika and a hunt besides.

**_Then I suppose we'd best make short work of it before everything comes crashing down. Hey! Where do you think you're going!?_ **

**_...My apologies. I took your ceaseless prattling as an invitation to proceed on my own._ **

The desolate isolation of a cave-in and a bounty to collect. 

**_To...to your friend… Who never doubted you. Who knew...knew that you...would return...and see justice...justice…._ **

**_...._ **

**_...No. It should be me._ **

One last day to spend in a castle before it would begin crumbling to the Flood.

All memories that he held dear. No matter how horrifically each story seemed to end, the moments in themselves, he cherished. Another day to spend with his friends. Another day to remember why he really wanted to keep fighting. 

He kept drifting. The fall was not steep, nor was it panic-inducing. It was smooth. He could feel his body being pulled downwards, through the sea of the past. He could feel each image as if he were reliving the moments sealed inside. Distant memories from his childhood. More recent ones from the beginning of his adventure. And fairly vivid ones of nights in a bar. 

Each belonged to him. And only him. 

He was still falling. More memories fluttered past. He tried to follow a few with his eyes, but they were gone as fast as they appeared.

It was dark here. And cold. And rather lonesome. And he began to wonder where he'd end up. This was not the Source, was it? 

The Source was much more than a field of memories. It was a world all its own. It had life and people and color and its own state of being. It was much more beautiful. 

The dark rift started to fade. He was still falling, but no longer into the abyss. Towards something bright. The sounds grew louder. There was something warm ahead. 

_Water around their feet. A tunnel above their head. A woman standing in front of them. Her hazel eyes fierce and determined to fix things in any way she may._

**_“I must remain behind… but you cannot stay with me.”_ **

_They took a step forward and insisted they stay behind._

**_“Please, you must go on! You are the Warrior of Light! You are hope —for the Scions, and for all the realm!”_ **

_Utter dread drenched their frantically beating heart._

**_“As long as your flame continues to burn, the light of the dawn may ever be relit!”_ **

_The woman’s fierce voice cut deep into their self-doubts._

_“ **You must escape, and save Eorzea from those who would plunge it into darkness!”**_

_She turned away from the hero, staring down into the murky waters._

**_“‘Tis the only way…”_ **

_And ran. Back down the tunnels. Back towards their pursuers. And the hero was forced to turn their back on their friends, those who stayed behind to give their lives, that they might escape. They were forced to run away._

As fast as the vision came, it was gone. And Ardbert was left with nothing to ground himself, save the very firmament he was laying on.

No more void, but it was still dark. No more voices, but the sounds of water and birds and all the like filled the air.

His senses slowly seeped back into his limbs. Blades of grass poked his head and rustled as the wind rolled across the land. When he squinted his eyes open, he caught sight of a long-missed night sky. Stars fluttering across the page and a few clouds dotting the canvas.

It was quiet, aside from the ambiance. No drowning light. No overbearing insults. Just the wind and the sound of the waves and the scent and taste of the ocean air.

For a moment, he didn't want to get up. Laying in the grass and staring at the night sky was a luxury he thought long gone by now. But it was so clear and all other anxieties vanished for that single moment. Norvrandt was far from mind. Ardbert was in a new world where he need not worry about a thing. He swore that even his heart may not have been beating.

His heart...wasn't beating. 

He felt _cold._

The moment was over as soon as it was there. The abhorrent pain of the stab wound came back to mind and he winced. 

Perhaps there was a nicer way to have ended it all. But he hadn't cared in the slightest. If anything, in some twisted and cruel way, he _wanted_ it to be worse. 

He sat up and ran a hand over his chestplate. The fabrics and materials were still joined, no evidence of a knife plunging through them. Which was probably for the better. But the armor looked different than he remembered. It was either darker or he couldn't see it properly in the night setting. But Ardbert swore that there was supposed to be more red on the fabric than there was.

He tore his eyes off himself and surveyed the landscape. A sight familiar to that of Kholusia, though the grass was greener. The world was darker. The trees were more lively. And a city of a different layout resting where he thought to see Eulmore. Still standing tall on pillars of white stone, but several spires jutting up from the waves rather than one singular pillar. Lamp posts lit along the walkways and ships docked all around the base of their ports.

It was a much different sight than the city-state he was used to seeing. But not different enough to leave him lost. This was definitely not Norvrandt, rather its counterpart across the boundaries of existence. This was the Source.

Ardbert took a deep breath, trying to steady his thoughts. They’d actually gone and done it. They’d leaped the barrier between worlds. Granted with an Ascian’s help, but they had managed to cross the Rift.

Some relief drenched his soul and he looked back up. Stars flickered and drifted across the sky. And a moon hung up there with it. 

He hadn’t seen the moon in a long time. 

A part of him wanted to sit there in the grass and keep staring. To let the rest of the world blissfully carry on without him that he may have this moment to himself for just a little while longer. No responsibilities nagging at him here. No guilt prying on his cold heart. Just his health and the sky hanging above him.

Alas, his lot was never so fortunate. After only a minute of the bliss, he could hear the abnormal sounds of more grass blades shaking. Something scraping its paws across the ground. A quiet growl to add to its presence. 

He turned his head to the right and glanced behind as much as he could. A dark figure, low to the earth. The yellow eyes wide and fanged teeth snapping in its mouth. Clawed feet attached to spindly legs, dragging dirt as it trod. The tail flicked back and forth behind it. The beast had its eyes set on the man.

Ardbert only had the chance to blink and wonder if it was hostile before it proved his point. The jackal crouched and pounced forward at him with claws outstretched and mouth wide open. The warrior nearly shrieked and was only able to lift up his right arm to fend off the beast. Its jaw snapped down over his wrist.

He didn’t feel any of it, the armor doing its job and keeping the maw from tearing his hand off. Ardbert barely managed to get to his feet, panickedly trying to throw the beast off his gauntlet and panting all the more. The spit and slobber from the animal sprayed from its growling, unhinged mouth and the sounds from its throat gave way to some form of terror. What a _lovely_ surprise to begin his stay in the Source.

The jackal was no different from ones he must’ve fought and slain a _thousand_ times over in the First. If anything, it was much weaker. It may have been a young jackal that strayed too far from its pack. Hence why it was so small and alone. It was pitiful. The poor thing was just looking for food. It probably didn’t know it had wandered off. It probably thought it was stronger than it was.

He felt somewhat awful for killing it.

It was easy, given the size of the small canine. Ardbert swung his arm around and the dog’s body with it, slamming it into the ground. The animal yipped a painful plea once, unsnapping from the warrior’s wrist and stumbling back to its feet in a daze. 

Ardbert drew his axe swiftly with the left hand and brought the handle into both his palms. He lifted the axehead just over his shoulder and swung it back down.

The yelp of the jackal shook his body, reminding him of how it felt to kill something. The crimson hues splattered across the grass beneath its writhing corpse and further stained his weapon. A few specks slid across the warrior’s cheeks and dripped off his jaw. His eyes trained on the jackal, searching for any movement to indicate that it was still alive. But he found nothing.

His shoulders loosened and he closed both eyes, releasing the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Killing monsters like this wasn’t unnatural to him, but he wasn’t expecting it here. Though that may have been ignorant. 

The fret passed, but he couldn’t help to stare at the corse. Then towards the red river spilling out of its skull. The silver and bronze metal of his weapon, still plunged in the beast’s body, now drenched in the same hue. He’d have to clean his axe off before he went anywhere, lest people think he was a murderer. Blood-stained weapons were common in Norvrandt, but who knew how different the Source was? The last thing he needed was to be accused of a crime he hadn’t committed. 

The axehead came loose from the body of the canine. Ardbert turned about, looking for the nearest source of water that he could get to. A small running river was just a few yalms to the south, a trail easily guiding him to the bridge at the edge of it. 

The grass gave way to white rocks and a stream of water that moved towards the ocean whisked past. Some peaceful monsters floated along the stream, never moving towards him as he slipped down the side of the river. As his boots landed in the water and he noticed just how large they were, he was thankful that they hadn’t gone after him.

Ardbert was keen on keeping his armor in pristine condition. Even before he’d gotten his current set, every piece of gear he’d collected, he had made sure to keep repaired and up to par. Though the gear would always collect scratches and he’d eventually have to replace it, almost every set seemed to last for years on end. This new one had reached almost two years of use before they’d moved to go to the Source.

As he brought the axe down to water level and submerged it beneath the waves, he dragged his hand across the stains and tried to rub off what blood had started to dry. Some of the stains easily washed away as soon as they’d touched the water, while others were stubborn and required extra effort to take out.

Ardbert was no stranger to having to clean his weapons. Wielding an axe of all things was possibly the bloodiest job, and therefore needed the most maintenance. But such _little_ bloodshed should not have left this much of a stain on his weapon. 

And one that he could not seem to scrape off for the life of him. The jackal’s blood was entirely washed away, yet the crimson stains still remained on the axehead. Abnormal stains of bright red that should have faded to brown if they were truly this old and dried on.

Try as he might, Ardbert could not remove the blood from his axe.

He lifted the weapon back out of the water. Droplets fell off and pattered against the surface of the river, being swept along the current and out to sea. The bronze metal would not let go of its new crimson hue. And all he could do was stare at the bizarre new mark that was left on his weapon. 

Trying to further clean it was useless. He gave up and placed the axe on his back and pulled himself back up the bank of the river. 

He’d already had his next objective: finding his friends. They couldn’t have landed too far from him, as they all died in the same place. But Ardbert didn’t entirely know how traveling between worlds would work. As far as he knew, his lot were the only ones who’d ever done it besides the Ascians.

Then again, the Ascian in white hadn’t exactly explained the specifics of this management. Just what they had to do and what would happen from there.

It was strange to work with the enemy… And Ardbert had to keep his doubts about trusting them to himself. Again.

_Just focus on walking… Find your friends._

The night must’ve meant few travelers, as he passed no one while walking down the trail. Monsters stayed clear of the path, and few that saw him paid no mind. All the better, as he didn’t want to brandish his weapon. In fact, he felt a bit too tired to try fighting again tonight. He said a silent prayer, hoping that the people in this alternate Eulmore had a place to stay for passersby like himself.

The bridges leading towards the city were quite different from what he’d seen in Eulmore. Less formal, but more sturdy and meant to do their job. And though it lacked the gaudy appeal of the city in Norvrandt, it more than made up for it with the sheer scale of its structures, including the crystal lighthouse resting on the horizon.

He hoped he had no reason to fear the city-state or any of its inhabitants. From a distance, he swore he heard excited screams or something similar. People running across the bridges and jumping past each other to reach their destinations. Some few gazed up at the clear night sky and enjoyed the cool air.

His boots scarcely scraped the stones before he was called on. The bridge leading to Eulmore's counterpart only fulms away, and a man of tall stature standing off to the side and calling to him.

"Oi, traveler!" 

Ardbert winced and looked to the left. He'd somehow missed the guard standing at the entrance. A galdjent much taller than he with a yellow coat and a helmet protecting his head. An axe on his back, though notably weaker than the weapon Ardbert carried on his person.

The hume glanced back at the city. Then the guard. Towards the city again before pacing towards the guard. 

They held a weary look on top of a sheer tiredness. Must've been standing out here for a while, staying at their post to protect their city. He stared down at the warrior, looking all over his armor and trying to get a read of the strange man. 

"Yer not from ‘round here, that much’s obvious." 

Ardbert kept silent, but a nervous feeling latched on. A thought suddenly occurred, one that hadn't come up even when he was speaking with the Ascian: _would anyone else know he was from another world?_

"You don't intend to hurt people with that bloody axe of yours, do you?"

"...No."

"It's stained in monster blood, is it?"

Ardbert glanced at the axehead over his shoulder. He honestly didn't know what it was covered in. But he _hoped_ it was just the blood of monsters. 

"Well, ye seem harmless enough. What are ye, an adventurer?"

"Y-yes," he replied almost immediately, tones of trepidation seeping into his voice.

The galdjent crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "Ye don't happen to be with others..." 

Had he been alive, his heart might've skipped a beat. 

"There were others today?" Eyes brightened and there was a hint of a smile. 

"Aye. A band of misfits it seems. Two o' the first were a lalafell and a miqo'te, both dressed in black like ye. I'll assume ye know 'em."

Whatever the galdjent had said, Ardbert didn't understand it at all. 

_A “mi-co-tay?” What in the hells is that? An insult or something?_

But instinct said to just nod and go along with it, like any adventurer would.

It started to feel like an interrogation, or perhaps a better word would be a lecture. The guard kept talking about how adventurers like him always strutted into “Limsa Lom-something-that-he-didn’t-catch,” like they owned the place and deserved the courtesy of the whole Maelstrom and Eorzea besides. As they started getting into why adventurers were the scourge of the city-state, Ardbert started to zone out entirely. Instead opting to stare at the strange city and trying to decide what he’d do next.

Finding his friends was the primary objective. Since they were the first ones here, they must’ve gotten used to this new world. While others might prefer to stay in their homes, adventurers were keen on branching out and learning the stakes of every square fulm of land in sight. They wouldn’t have shied from exploring and learning more about the Source, least of all when a city as incredible looking as Limsa Lemon-Whatever was just off the nearest coast. 

After he hopefully found his friends in the city, they could start on charting plans. The Ascian had mentioned that the best way to hasten a calamity, like _they’d_ done in the past, was to start up the “primal issues.” Something to do with terrorizing nearby “beast tribes” and making them summon their gods. The concept was unknown to any of the First-bound Warriors of Light, but was supposedly common knowledge to denizens of the Source. 

_Except for maybe adventurers who had never heard about them before…_

Whatever the galdjent had been saying, he clearly didn’t notice that Ardbert wasn’t paying attention. And was startled when the hume rather _rudely_ interrupted him and said, “Hey, do you know anything about primals?”

They glared down at him and mumbled something before speaking clearly, “O’ course, who in their right mind don’t?”

Ardbert laughed nervously. “Well, I’m new to this… _land_ and haven’t gotten a good idea of how the… _world…_ works.”

His use of words was _questionable_ at best and _absolutely gave him away as being from another plane of existence_ at worst. 

The guard narrowed his eyes, arms folded over the other, and stared down menacingly at the hume. But the threat of suspicion passed and he sighed. “S’pose the bloody Warrior of Light didn’t know lots ‘bout Eorzea neither before she came here… I guess I can’t blame ye for not knowin’.”

Ardbert flinched and tried to keep his mouth shut, so as to not give away his surprise, or perhaps the better term was his fear. Maybe the concept was different in the Source, but he’d definitely heard the words right: Warrior of Light. 

_There’s Warriors of Light in this world, too? Or is there only one? Is she going to find us and put a stop to the Rejoining? That’s what we did… That’s what we were going to do, she’ll probably-_

He shook his head and brushed the thought aside. As long as they remained quiet and didn’t draw attention to themselves, perhaps this world’s Warrior of Light wouldn’t notice them. They wouldn’t have to worry about anything, just stick to the plan.

Though the galdjent had clearly been lecturing on something important, Ardbert hardly remembered a word that was spoken. Only listening long enough to be let past the gate. The guard clearly didn’t want to be awake at these late hours and, begrudgingly, would rather let a pesky adventurer by than deal with interrogating them. 

Thankful again that this world seemed to be treating him well, Ardbert continued on down the walkways and across the bridges. Waves rolled beneath the wooden planks, mist tainting the air with the taste of salt. There was a small layer of fog, hanging more thick over the water. In the gray hues ahead, all that let Ardbert know he was going in the right direction were the lamps lit along the bridge. 

As he tred farther and found himself approaching a plaza of sorts, he became all the more wary of the noise. People yelling and laughing and screaming at each other. Becoming more visible as he walked forward, or as they barreled past him towards their destination. Many wore attire that was akin to adventuring gear, often donned when embarking on a hunt trip or leaving to the next city-state. 

The first people that ran past nearly brushed his shoulder. Two friends, no doubt, one with a robe and a cane, and the other wearing armor and an axe on their back. The one with the cane laughing more while the axe wielder was focused on running, determined to outpace their friend. 

They disappeared into the fog as fast as Ardbert had seen them. And the slightest hint of nostalgia panged in his still-heart. He could remember being that joyful once. 

When he first left his family to become an adventurer, and he made his first friend after a messy fight with hobgoblins. The first trip to Eulmore with only his axe and coin, and no brother or father to guide him down the halls. The feeling of freedom. Having no one to tell you where to go and what to buy. Just the liberty of browsing the wares, buying what you pleased… or hearing the gossip of monsters outside on the beach. 

Perhaps that’s what those girls were doing now. They’d collected their hunt marks and were on a mission to earn some coin. Or maybe they were to deliver swift justice to some rumored ruffians outside of the city. Whatever the case, Ardbert wished them well. For as little as he knew about those adventurers, he hoped they would be successful in-

He stopped in his tracks. The hume had been walking forward without any idea where he was going. When he finally looked up, he found nothing familiar. No idea where in the city he was. Just strange buildings around him and the night sky above.

Yet for some strange reason, one he couldn’t explain to himself, he felt like he’d found the right way to go. Wherever the “right way” was supposed to be. As strange as this city was, he swore he might’ve been here before. Might’ve tred these steps before.

Mayhap it was because of the similarities to Eulmore. While the layouts differed, the white stone walls remained the same. The taste of salt in his mouth every time he took a breath. Right, of course. That had to be why it all felt familiar.

_Who was he trying to convince? Himself?_

He kept walking forwards. Still no real idea where he was going. But he walked nonetheless. The building ahead was brightly lit inside. The scent of the ocean overtaken by sweets and delicacies and definitely some alcohol. His boots scuffed the wooden floor boards and caught some attention as he walked in. Tables scattered around the room, small parties sitting here and there. Some laughing over their meals and others turning an eye towards the adventurer. 

He could feel the gaze of several people on him. Such a feeling wasn’t strange. In fact, it was all too common when an adventurer traveled to a new place. Wary commoners and all the like. At least this time around, anyone definitely had a good reason to be wary…

All the more reason he had to do his best to not be suspicious. He kept walking forwards, trying to keep his gaze from wandering to the people that stared. Which, in turn, led him to miss some rather important people.

Thankfully, someone in his party had taken notice. She’d heard the familiar sounds of his armor clanking when he walked in the room. The cat ears on her head flicked and she jerked her head away from the conversation to catch sight of her dear friend treading into the tavern. 

The light scuffs of shoes on the floor and something dark out of the corner of his eye. Ardbert turned to his left and something latched onto his palm immediately. A friendly hand and expression to greet him. Her eyes bright and a smile to match. Renda-Rae said nothing, only offering her eagerness as conversation.

Ardbert stared at her. For a moment, he swore what he saw was impossible. But if he’d made it to the Source after killing himself, of course his friends had. 

_Why would he have doubted it?_

Perhaps he was more overwhelmed to see a familiar friend, once bloodied and their body that had tumbled into a grave, now upright and full of color again. Lost for words or even a proper expression, Ardbert kept staring at Renda-Rae.

His initial shock made it easy for her to tug him along. His legs giving way and moving forward as she pulled on his gauntlets and guided him across the tavern. He’d somehow missed the convocation of his friends, the other three huddled against the wall of the open doorway. Their silhouettes were easier to see now that he was closer. But why were they so hard to see in the first place?

Ah, yes. The usually white cloak of Lamitt’s was tainted a soot color. Branden’s gleaming armor had grown dull and gray. Even Nyelbert’s dark robes had somehow grown darker. And Renda-Rae’s normally vibrant array of colors was de-saturated and left her wanting. 

Still in some state of shock, all Ardbert could manage was a weak, “hello” as a greeting, while the rest of his friends all rejoiced immediately. Branden pulled his fellow tank into a hug, practically lifting Ardbert off the ground, and ruffled his friend’s hair. He was smiling and… laughing? 

Just as soon as Branden set him down and let him take a stale breath of air, Ardbert was overrun with Renda-Rae throwing her arms over his neck and hugging him. She spoke no words, only making eager noises as she hugged tighter. And though he was difficult to see, Ardbert felt the calm grip of his elven friend on his shoulder. He could see something of a gleeful expression behind Nyelbert’s attire. 

He was certain he was able to stand on his own, but as Renda-Rae pulled away, Ardbert nearly fell on his face. He collapsed in a heap of exhaustion and more deep breaths, down to one knee, his head hanging on his shoulders. 

Frantic gasps and hands landing on his shoulders. Voices calling to ask if he was okay. They seemed so far away. This moment seemed so impossible.

They were dead. _They were dead._

_And instead of hell, they were treated to this?_

A smaller hand landed on the back of his glove, grabbing his palm and tugging it. He forced himself to look up and met the sturdy gaze of a young, and fairly short, woman. Lamitt’s furrowed brows and small frown. Her mouth moved like she’d spoken something. But the deafening sound of his own frantic thoughts made it impossible to hear her.

He swallowed and forced that anxiety away. Then raised his head again and asked, “Come again?”

Lamitt exhaled sharply, her annoyance already spiking. She glared at her friend and leaned in closer, ilms away from his face. “I asked if you were alright! Did you get hurt on your way here?”

He looked down at her other hand and noticed the golden-crested cane clutched in her palm. That caring look buried in the anger of her eyes. The way she seemed to shake, her limbs twitching to help, the crack in her voice...

The warrior huffed twice, three more times, before finally processing her question. He smiled and laughed. “I wasn’t hurt, no…” He lifted his head back up, icy blue eyes almost watering. “I’m just _relieved._ ” 

They were all thankful, they must’ve been. Who wouldn’t be after all they had endured? Losing each other and the things they cared for? Realizing there was but one option to save their home, and it could be the causation of a calamity in another? For weeks, months even, they had all wondered if their actions were worth the suffering. If the fruits of their labor would ever be ripe enough. 

But for now, for this single instant, the five were thankful to be able to hold each other in their arms and stare up at a proper night sky.

**Author's Note:**

> This was only the introductory part. I hit a small bit of writing block when it came to the end of this piece, so I decided getting this part out and moving on was the best option. Sorry if it's short or lackluster.
> 
> There are alterations to the MSQ with this story, most especially where it involves the Warrior of Light (from the Source). I'll be using my own Warrior of Light to fill in that gap, but this isn't their story. This is a story about the Warriors of Darkness, and I fully intend to tell it.


End file.
